


A First For Both

by wonderlandiscrumbling



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, light intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 03:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15877449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlandiscrumbling/pseuds/wonderlandiscrumbling
Summary: Sofia happens to be Oswald's first for a number of things and he happens to be the first man in her life to treat her like a person who matters.





	A First For Both

He looks at her with pupils blown and lips parted, there’s a fear and excitement in his eyes as he stares at her. When she gingerly touches her fingertips against the line of his jaw he leans into her touch, dares to place his hands on her hips but his touch is unsure and gentle. Sofia leans in kissing him, she’s settled on his lap and quite content having the king of the underworld beneath her, his hands on her. He kisses her back, more eager than nervous this time, he’s just the slightest bit more certain and confident in what they’re doing now. He moves one hand up to rest against the back of her head, his fingers curl and tangle in thick locks of dark brown hair and he keeps her close as his tongue presses into her mouth. She can’t help but moan, she tastes cigarettes and wine when they kiss, and being so intimately close she can smell his cologne. Her hands are on his shoulders, but she begins moving them downward, runs them down over his still clothed chest feeling almost annoyed that they are both still dressed. She nips his bottom lip before breaking from the kiss, he’s staring at her again, a faint blush coloring his normally pale cheeks. 

Oswald averts his gaze when she grips the hem of her top and begins pulling it up and over her head tossing it to the side. She smiles, almost amused by how shy he is about this, about her. She places a hand against his cheek and he dare to look at her.

“We can stop at any time, okay?” She gently reminds him, and he nods.

She’s told him several times now, she knows this is new, that being openly in love with somebody scares him enough but being intimate is another level all together. This is new, what she offers him is something he isn’t used to. She feels sad for him, pities him in a way despite the fact she knows he’d be angry if he knew she pitied him, but she can’t help it. She can’t fathom wearing your heart on your sleeve only for the person you love to toss you into the river to die. She knows there’s more to the story, knows that the man beneath her isn’t innocent, but she feels for him. 

She presses a kiss against his cheek and resumes touching him. She shivers feeling his calloused fingers brushing against the bare skin of her sides. Her own hands make their way to the buttons of his dress shirt, he doesn’t stop her as she begins to undo each button exposing inch by inch of pale freckled skin littered with scars going from minor to major. Each one holds a story, she knows some of the stories, but not all of them. She pushes his shirt back over his shoulders, he awkwardly pulls it off the rest of the way letting it lay behind him on the bed. His hands return to her body, his left resting on the small of her back and his right hand now placed on her upper thigh, his fingers are brushing just a couple of inches beneath the hem of her skirt and she wants to tell him to touch higher. 

She wishes she could call off her appointments, tell Jim to go to Hell, and convince Oswald to just stay here with her. 

Her lips travel down along the side of his neck, she bites and sucks against his skin earning first groans then needful moans from him. He grows braver moving his hand lower to rest against her ass, he pulls her body closer against his own and she more than approves of closer proximity, approves of feeling the warmth of his bare skin against hers. She flicks her tongue against his skin before biting again, her lips travel down towards his shoulder where she finds clusters of freckles. There are few scars, most she knows lay on his chest, stomach, back, and eventually his leg. His body is mapped in them, she has her own, but not quite as many as he has. She wishes he could see her, all of her, she would easily let him kiss and caress each scar while she recounts the way she received them. 

Her right hand touches along his torso, her fingers touch against the scar that lay against his stomach right in the center. Her index finger traces the mark wanting to memorize its shape. A two inch line from the left leads into a circular scar followed by another two inch line that goes out the right side. A bullet, the rough water and rocks of the river had ripped at the flesh making a small entry wound bigger than it should have been. He tenses when she begins tracing the mark, he gently takes hold of her wrist and she pulls back to look at him.

He’s staring down at the scar, at her hand that is now just hovering above the mark.

“Please don’t.” He whispers, voice broken and sad. 

“I’m sorry, I won’t touch you there again, okay?” Her voice is caring and gentle, she doesn’t want to hurt him.

He nods, she presses a kiss against his cheek and he looks at her again. He rubs his thumb against the underside of her wrist before releasing her.

“Thank you.” He whispers, he seems relieved.

He visibly relaxes, almost seems embarrassed by his own reaction to her touching him there. She recalls how he had cried when she’d seen his leg for the first time, how ashamed he was of something he had no control over. She kisses the bridge of his nose before she reaches back to unhook her bra. This time he is looking at her, more intent on looking into her eyes than gazing at her form like other men in her life would. He’s different and she knows it’s a cliché thing to think, but it’s true. His touches are gentle and kind, she isn’t an object to him or a source of frustration. 

He leans forward pressing a kiss against her chest, she pets her fingers through his hair her eyes closing as he presses kisses against her soft bare skin. She moans when his tongue flicks against her right nipple then the left, his hands move to her hips and he’s moving to lay her back against the bed. 

She watches him as he moves to kneel between her legs, he hooks his fingers under the hem of her skirt and begins pulling it down, she lifts her hips upwards making it easier on him to pull the item of clothing down. She notices how comfortable she feels with him, for possibly too many years she has felt comfortable with men in intimate situations, but this is different than those time. There’s no being groped and fondled, no rough hair pulling or being shoved out the door. 

No instead he’s leaning down and pressing tentative kisses against her stomach, his hands are resting on her hips and his warm breath tickles her skin. She pets his hair amused by how messy the purple and black locks are when there’s no longer gel holding it in place, she admires how soft it feels and how the purple shines threaded through the black. She whimpers and moans when he nips against her skin, his green eyes are locked on her and she feels herself blush. She knows he’s uncertain about this, all of it not even just the sex. She scares him and what they have together even scares her, she wants to laugh when she realizes she’s never dated before.

She remembers her mother teaching her to never give her heart away, that humans are cruel and greedy by nature and that it’s best to give people what they want but take all that you can get. When she looks at Oswald though she can no longer grasp her mother’s words or even her father’s cold distance through her life. She’s lost in the love she sees in her partner’s eyes, the way he touches her like she’s important, as if she is truly somebody. With him she feels like she is a person, she is whoever she wants to be, and not a weapon made of sex appeal and a sharp distant cruelty.

“I love you.” She whispers to him; the words are sudden, and she almost hates herself for saying them.

He moves up her body, he rest his forehead against hers and she can feel his warmth, she can feel the fabric of his pants against her bare legs. He touches her cheek and she can’t help but turn her head to press a kiss against the palm of his hand.

“Do you mean that?” He asks.

He isn’t accusing or angry, more fearful than anything. She almost wants to take the words back, wants to forget that she feels this for him. There’s so much he doesn’t know and when he finds out she knows it’ll crush him.

“Yes, I would never say that to you if I didn’t mean it.” 

He’s staring at her still, she knows how much this scares him. She realizes he hasn’t heard those words before, nobody has ever dated him or told him they’re in love with him. She knows maybe she should be proud to be the first, but she feels guilty instead.

He smiles at her, there’s relief in his expression, he believes her words and she feels grateful. He kisses her deeply, his body is pressed against hers and her fingers are now buried in his hair and her nails are lightly scratching against his scalp.

“I love you too” he whispers against her lips and again she tastes him, she feels him and she wants to feel more of him, but she refuses to pressure him into anything he doesn’t want.

She’s okay with it when he moves to lay by her side, when he wraps an arm around her slender waist and pulls her body close against his own. She moves to lay on her side, so she can face him, she trails her index finger along his jaw and down his neck, she presses a kiss against his chin and he chuckles. He seems happy, she’s making him happy, and she knows that won’t last. She wishes it could last, but she knows herself and what she’s already done.

She thinks of the night with Jim on the couch, she still hates herself immensely for that moment, but her mother’s words from years ago repeat in her head that her sexuality is her strongest weapon when it comes to men especially. She looks at Oswald and realizes she doesn’t want it to be that way, she wants sex to mean something with him.

“Can you stay the night?” She inquires, she knows he’ll say yes, but she can’t help worry he’ll refuse.

He rubs a hand along her side, he kisses her gently. “Of course.” 

His response is a relief, his kindness and his love are also a relief. She knows her father wouldn’t approve; he had of course wanted both of his children to have normal lives, to marry, and never return to Gotham city. He wouldn’t want his daughter in Gotham and he wouldn’t want her bedding and falling in love with a mobster let alone one who used to work with him a few years ago. She almost wishes she’d been in Gotham sooner, she knows she would have found him just as interesting then as she does now.  
“Does this mean that you trust me?” She asks, it feels nearly cruel to asks him that question.

He holds her close against himself, he’s looking at her as if maybe some answer will appear. 

“I’m starting to, I feel like an idiot for threatening to kill you so many times.” 

She smiles, she knows she should take more offense to his previous threats of torture and murder, but she doesn’t. 

“It’s fine, I’m a Falcone, and after what you’ve been through I get why you’re wary of me.”

There’s every reason in the world for him to feel that way. 

He kisses her again deeply and he brings his hand to rest against her ass. She can’t help but smile against his lips, she likes being touched by him and how perfectly his hand feels against her like this. 

“I can assure you I no longer have any intention of hurting you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” 

She hides her face against his chest, she closes her eyes just enjoying their closeness. He presses a kiss against the top of her head and she feels safe. She wants to tell him that he’s the first man she’s ever spent the night with, the first to just hold her like this and treat her with such kindness, but she doesn’t want to be too candid with him. She still feels scared of letting him in, of what it means. For now she’s content to just lay there with him in her bed.


End file.
